


Peacock Strut

by HarperSilvertongue



Category: Critical Role (Web Series), Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: No Seriously Why Are There So Many Doors?, Shenanigans, Too Many Doors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-05
Updated: 2019-06-05
Packaged: 2020-04-08 02:59:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19098394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HarperSilvertongue/pseuds/HarperSilvertongue
Summary: "The best lie I ever told... I pretended to be royalty for three weeks for a scam. It was kind of my test. I pretended to be reincarnated royalty from across the sea." -Mollymauk TealeafA bright circus man takes on the role of reincarnated royalty to fool a town, and may be in over his head as he tries to see how far his lie can take him. A story to celebrate a character that lived life at its fullest...and a character that always seemed to have the worst luck with his charisma rolls.In short: a comedy of errors and ineptitude.(Episode 26 spoilers)





	Peacock Strut

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers are ahead, by the way. 
> 
> So, here we go. My first ever fanfiction. I actually wrote 90% of this the day after season 2 episode 26 aired, and found myself writing a story where I could laugh along with Mollymauk again. I also listened to a lot of "My Irish Molly-o" and "Finnegan's Wake" after that episode while I wrote; in a sense, I had my own wake for Molly, getting drunk on Irish music and tiefling shenanigans. So what you are seeing is a story that's taken over a year for me to finish, edit, and then build the courage to post. Is it perfect? Nah. But I think Molly would want it that way. 
> 
> As to why I chose this particular event to write about, I figured that we will never learn what happened on Molly's first scam, especially since the group has dropped Molly's storyline after a year now. So, why not speculate?
> 
> Much of this story is inspired by Molly's hilariously bad charisma rolls, and just his luck with rolls in general. For a lot of the story beats, I just asked myself, "As a DM, what would I do if the character had just rolled a 1 on perception/charisma?" I think that if people enjoy this enough, I may do a "behind the scenes" chapter where I can talk about some of my writing choices... We'll see!
> 
> But enough of my blabbering. Please enjoy this very strange and hopefully charming series of "bad rolls"  
> 
> 
> * * *

He had drawn The Fool. 

Mollymauk bit his lip. He wasn’t sure if that was a good sign or not. 

Molly reshuffled the deck and drew the next card. The Wheel of Fortune. He was still getting the hang of these tarot cards. What did the wheel mean again? “Good luck,” right? Or was it “destiny”? The card took its place next to The Fool in the dirt. He started to reshuffle, and then began to question if you were actually supposed to reshuffle during a read, so he just drew right off the top. The Three of Cups. Something to do with drinking? 

He drew one last card and his blood ran cold. The Hanged Man. This plan was doomed, and only he knew it. 

“What do the cards say today, Molly?” The little dwarf child, Tonya, asked. Her hands paused in their work on his horns. 

Molly palmed the last card and pointed to the others in turn. “That card represents me, that one represents my destiny, and that one represents merriment. So, my destiny is to get really, really drunk after this whole mess is over.”

Tonya giggled. Pointing to the cups with her toe, she said, “Gustav told me that actually means companionship when he did my readings.”

“That’s because you’re but an innocent creature, Tonya, who could never give into drink.” Molly said. “How’s it coming along up there? Are the jewels sticking to the horn all right?” 

“Finished!” Tonya added the last ring on his horn. She smiled. “I think you look pretty, Molly.” Molly smiled back. He studied himself in the twin’s hand mirror. He looked quite dashing in gold. And the ruby red robe, while a little too lace-adorned for his taste, did cover his figure well. It was more of a royal trench coat than anything else; he would have to ask Orna to fix him a more colorful coat like this one after this was all said and done. 

“You’re quite the spectacle,” Bosun’s voice said behind them. Molly and Tonya stood up to see the half orc approaching them. Orna was a stride behind him, her fiery hair as wild as ever. “You certainly look the part. Now, run it by me one more time: who are you again?”

“Esma Yeutriste,” Mollymauk said with a bow. “The reincarnated heir to the throne of a kingdom far across the sea. You, dear Boson and Orna, are in the process of returning their master to his rightful throne when you stumbled upon this quaint town.”

“Do you speak?”

“No, for I speak in only foreign tongue. I have my servants serve as my translators.”

“And why are we staying in town?”

“Because we need coin. You spent everything you had for my resurrection, and are calling on the kindness of the gentle folk to assist your poor coin purse.”

Bo nodded in approval. “I’m impressed. I didn’t actually think you had been listening last night, but you prove to be full of surprises yet again.”

“He’s sounding more and more like Gustav every day,” Orna grunted. “‘Assist your poor coin purse’? A true Gustav-ism, if I’ve ever heard one. Do us a favor, Molly, and don’t emulate him. Now,” She led Molly to the far side of the tent. Tonya followed close behind until they reached the slumbering Kylre; she snuggled up next to him and his large lizard arms pulled her in close. “You look the part, but let’s see if you can walk it. Now, you’ve seen the rich folk that come to our show, right?” Molly nodded. “They’re walking pricks. Snubbing everything, even their own clothes. So your nose has to be up.” She tilted his chin up, and Molly found himself studying the tent’s rainbow ceiling. 

He became so caught up in the dancing colors lit by sunrise’s warm touch that he inadvertently missed all of Orna’s orientation and only snapped back to reality when she said, “…and you know what? That’s all that they are: Peacocks. Peacocks with no purpose other than to look pretty. You got that, Molly?”

Molly connected his thumb and index finger into an “O” and held it up with a wink. 

“Perfect. Just channel all of that and you’ll strut with the worst of them.” Orna grabbed Molly by his belt and pulled them forward. “Lead with your hips, head up, poised and proud. Now,” She pointed to the other end of the tent. “Show us your inner peacock and _strut!_ ” 

Molly strutted, thrusting his hips out before him with every stride. When he reached the other side, Bosun cupped his face in his hands and Orna called out, “I said ‘peacock,’ not ‘headless turkey.’ Again.” They proceeded to go through the entire animal kingdom: Drunken cat, wounded weasel, stumpy lizard (Kylre croaked in offense at that), all the way down to one-legged puppy. For his last attempt, Molly turned his knees out, folded his arms into wings, and clucked his way across the tent. Tonya laughed. 

Orna rolled her eyes. “Fuck you, Molly.”

“Aw, fuck you too,” he said lovingly with a grin. 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

Mollymauk waved, his rings glistening in the sun. He was getting the hang of this. The throng around him cheered and cooed. Everyone begged him to look their way, notice them, acknowledge their value, and when he obliged, they became alive with exhilaration. Bo took the front, calling out to the emerging crowd to part for Lord Esma Yeutriste’s coming. Orna covered the rear. She had the look of a professional bodyguard.

“Fancy elven noble,” She whispered to Molly as she plucked more offerings from the citizen’s hands. “To the right. Next to the two black horses. Be sure to give them the wave.” Molly gave his best wave in said direction. Just like Desmond had shown him: stroke the sky with the back of your hand, tilt the wrist, tilt the wrist. 

The noble and their entourage approached. Their stallions parted the civilians like beaded curtains. Once at Molly’s side, the young elven heir gave as low of a bow as their saddle would allow. This was Felice, Heir of the Salderon Estate a few leagues west of town. 

Molly looked at his bejeweled hands, astonished. The wave had worked!

“Your grace.” Felice offered their hand, protected by a violet silk glove rather than a wall of cheaply made rings. Molly took it. Was this lord going to kiss his hand? Felice bent and touched their forehead to his knuckles. “A pleasure to finally meet you face to face.”

Ah. No kiss. A little disappointing. 

“I have heard so much about you in the past week since you came,” Felice continued. “Assassinated on the night of your wedding? Your body taken across the sea? A resurrection ritual that lasted three days? And now stranded in this foreign-tongued land with no money?” Felice laughed like a bell. “A story to rival even the most romantic epics, wouldn’t you say?” 

Orna “translated” for Molly in Marquesian. Molly pretended to understand with a few pensive nods. “I am glad to see that the people of this town are helping you raise enough funds for your journey back to Marqet,” The high elf continued. “I was curious as to where your lodgings were in town.” 

Bo stepped forward. “His grace is staying in the Willowden, my lord. They are offering us a generous discount.” 

_His grace._ Oh, how Molly loved the sound of that. He arched his back like the proud bird he was supposed to be channeling. 

Felice looked as if Bo had just backhanded him. “The Willowden? That decrepit sack of a building? And for a person of _your_ distinction? I won’t allow it. Had I known you had been trapped in such a horror as the Willowden, Lord Esme, I would have approached you sooner.” This time, Felice took Molly’s hand and planted a gentle kiss between the jewels. “I insist you stay at with me until you leave for Maurqet.”

How could Molly say no? 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

“Welcome to my estate.” Felice spread their arms wide as if to hug the mansion’s steps. “My very extended family lives here. Many rooms are adjoining rooms because of it. So many rooms, and yet once you’ve seen one, you’ve seen the other dozen. A dreadfully dull maze,” Felice sighed as they led Molly and his “retainers” up the steps. “Half the time I find myself wishing for some sort of earthquake to hit or some volcano to erupt under the foundation. Just to change up the scenery a bit, you know?” 

“Well,” Bo cut in before Molly could answer. “I am sure our lord would be more than happy to help alleviate you of your boredom.”

 _More like ‘bedroom,’_ Molly thought as he reexamined Felice’s calves through their tight trousers. Orna elbowed him, and he straightened his peacock strut once more. 

Felice gave a playful smile, and led them up the entryway into the main hall. At the top of the manor’s staircase, Felice paused their tour and passed a hand over a glass emerald bowl. “Now here is a treat for the eyes. My ancestor, Val’cdora, crafted this before the Calamity.” There was a playful gleam in their eyes as they said, “Some say it was carved from a green dragon scale. More likely, though, my ancestor had access to some valuable dwarven cut emerald.  
“We will put it out on display during the summer days, but otherwise it is kept locked safely in our family’s treasury. I would ask that you touch with only your eyes, as it is also used for holy ceremonies, weddings…” Felice motioned as if to show the endless length of the list. “I personally would prefer to keep it my office, but my great aunts insist that I uphold the tradition of displaying it as such. Many of them live here with me, along with most of my extended family, so they have me under their watchful eye all the time.” 

Pausing in her mock translating, Orna nodded. “So, don’t touch the incredibly fancy bowl. Should be easy task for us, _right?_ ” Molly arched an eyebrow at her, as if to ask _why are you accusing me already?_ He also retracted his curious hand back into his coat pocket. 

Felice’s tour led them around to the hall of mirrors. Molly cursed. Every room was more interesting than the next, and everyone was just walking through them as if a crystal chandelier that imitated a firework was as exotic as a weed. Or that a room of mirrors was an everyday luxury one must walk through to proceed to the privy. “And this one,” Felice said, “Is our Red Room. My grandfather had this absurd belief that red was the color of luck, and so in his later years turned this once-ballroom into his ‘lucky-room,’ where he would hold his evening card games.”

Bo whistled as they stepped over the scarlet carpet past the red-oak chess table. Molly gawked at the rose-stained windows, only to be reminded by Orna’s elbow again that nobility did not gawk. 

Felice led them out into yet another hallway and towards their sleeping quarters. Keeping stride beside Molly, Felice said, “Yes, even elven minds can be contorted with age. But, you know what they say in Maurqet.” Felice turned to Molly and said a string of beautiful nonsense syllables. Molly tried not to squint perplexed at the high elf. Felice frowned a little and said more words that sounded gorgeous but meant less to Molly than the squawks of a demonic turkey. 

“You can… say in common.” Molly managed to say in Orna’s likeness. 

“Oh!” Felice seemed pleasantly surprised. “You—you understand common? I was under the impression you only spoke Marquesian!” 

“I…speak little only.” His accent was, quite frankly, terrible. “Trying to practice. Not good though.” 

Molly could practically feel Orna’s blood pressure rise beside him. _Oh, like you had a better idea,_ he thought. 

Beaming, Felice said, “I think you speak it wonderfully, Lord Esma. Perhaps you could show me more tonight?” 

Molly couldn’t stop himself: “Yes. That good.” Orna let her head fall into her hands. Bo sucked in a fit of laughter. 

“Wonderful!” Felice led them to an open bedroom. “I will be expecting you in a few hours. We can discuss the possibility of monetary loans for your eventual trip back home. Until then, I will be sending some companionship to keep you company, as I have important business to attend to in the meantime.” Bowing low, Felice shut the door.

“Yes, _that good?!_ ” Orna growled once Felice’s footsteps could no longer be heard. 

“It’s called _improvising,_ Orna,” Molly growled back. “I am sorry I didn’t follow your brilliant plan. Oh wait: you didn’t have one!” 

“You could have just not talked,” Bo said. “You know. Be too shy and just nod. Giggle a little. Any of those non-talking options.” 

“Hey!” Molly put his bejeweled hands on his hips. “They fell for it, didn’t they?” 

Orna jabbed a finger into his chest. “You’re lucky they apparently can’t afford brains with all this money!”

Bo stepped in between them. “Hey hey! Easy, Orna. We’re still fine, still going strong.” Orna’s hair flamed up a bit. “Okay, maybe we should take a quick walk.” Bo began to usher her to the door, and glanced back at Molly. “Just… stay here until we get back. Can you do that?”

“But I was going to go exploring! Did you guys even see how many rooms are in this place? There were so many doors we didn’t touch…” Bo glared. Molly rolled his eyes. “Yes. Fine. I will stay here.” Bo gave a nod, and then Molly was alone. 

He was in the world’s biggest funhouse, and he couldn’t go anywhere. Molly fell back onto the bed. Well, might as well get some shut eye from his hard day of “not talking.”

A knock on the door. Molly groaned. He swung himself off the bed. “Oh, come on,” He muttered. “Can’t you two give it a rest? I just want a good, nice solid nap—”

Molly opened the door and was shocked to see seven of the most beautiful silk-robed elves he had ever seen looking back at him. 

“Hello sir,” The tall elf said. “Lord Felice said you may enjoy companionship during your stay here.”

They were all waiting on him, poised to enter and please. Molly looked over his mini mob, pausing on each face, weighing what may have been the most difficult decision of his life. They were all so beautiful. They were all so eager. And he could only choose one? 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

“Seven?” Orna asked. “You did it with _seven?_ ” She stood at the foot of his bed with her arms crossed as if to restrain herself. Molly, lounging in his nest of pillows and garbed in nothing but a lone red pillow covering his choice bits, grinned proudly. 

“It would have been rude to send any of them back,” He said. 

Beside Orna, Bo nodded thoughtfully. “You have to admit, it’s what any aristocrat would do in that situation.” 

Orna almost retorted, but Molly shifted his hips to let the pillow strategically slip down, and Orna dropped the conversation to cover her eyes. “You’re terrible, you know that?” She mumbled. 

“Come now, Orna,” Molly teased. “What royalty would be shy about his royal jewels?” 

“Alright, alright!” Orna, eyes still protected, fumbled blindly for his scarlet silk coat on his dresser. She tossed it onto him. “You’ve made your point. I also think you’re letting this whole royalty thing get to your head.” 

The lavender tiefling stood into a full body stretch. “Bo, it’s like I always say, ‘try everything once,’ and when was I ever going to try that again?” Molly tossed the silk robe over his shoulders. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a very important lord to dine with in a bit.” He strutted between the two of them. 

Orna and Bo’s gazes followed him out the door. “Now that,” Bo chuckled, “Was the strut of a true peacock.”

“Yeah,” said Orna. “He just had to use his cock to get there.” 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

Mollymauk would not have strutted had he known he would be without Bo and Orna that evening. Felice sat across the long marble table, pouring themselves a cup of fine red wine in between bites of his pork roast. Molly peered carefully at the generous offering of pork doused in a violet, green-speckled sauce, too afraid to try it in case his fear-knotted stomach couldn’t keep it down. 

He was truly alone. 

Felice clasped his hands together. Molly jumped. “So, where did you say you were from again?”

Molly repeated what Bo had said. Felice narrowed his eyes, more playfully than suspicious. “Your accent sounds… a little more southern than that.”

“Well, I am reincarnated,” Molly said. “My mouth is… still gettin’ used to…speakin’ in its native tongue.” Felice’s eyes narrowed more. Molly’s smile widened more. 

“Have you been in contact with your family since your reincarnation? Surely the priest who brought you back would have sent a message to your estate to let everyone know of your safe return.”

This wasn’t going to plan.

“N-not yet, I think.”

Felice reached for their wine glass. “It seems you are in more of a predicament than I thought, Lord Esme. I will have my men escort you to our personal carriage, where we can take you to the Lawmaster. There, she should know where we could search for records of this Yeutriste estate you claim to be from. Then, we can help you reconnect with your family.”

Molly began to sweat under his coat. “Um, what?”

This was going badly.

Felice sipped their drink, still calm, still smiling. “You didn’t think I would let a fellow aristocrat simply wander the countryside without proper assistance and travel, did you? For all you know, your servants could be just strangers, bandits,” Felice glowered. “Cons.”

Weeeeeeeeeeell craaaaaaaaaaaaaaap. They knew. 

Molly rose. “I, uh, think I’d better go tell my, uh, servants-”

Felice rose with him. “Splendid! I will have a servant escort you back to your sleeping quarters. No, wait,” Felice gave a slender smile. “I’ll escort you myself. Shall we?” They gestured towards the door and put their hand firmly on Molly’s shoulder, pushing him forward. 

This was going very badly. 

Molly reminded himself not to panic as they entered the hallway. If anyone could come up with some clever ploy to slip out of this mess, it was Molly. That’s why they had chosen him, right? That brilliant plan was going to come. A foolproof plan or lie would pop into his practically newborn brain and they could all walk away laden with gold in their pockets and heads securely on between their shoulders.

Anytime now.

“Hold.” Felice riffled through their coat pockets. “I know I kept those cursed keys somewhere.”

Anytime now.

Felice fiddled with the keys.

Anytime now. 

Felice turned to lock the door behind them. 

Molly bolted.

The colorful tiefling sprinted down the next hallway, easily distancing himself from the startled yells of Felice calling for their men. He just had to take a few turns, lose the lord of the house, get Bo from the entryway, and meet Orna in the plaza—

A guard’s black battle-axe peaked out from the hallway, with the severely pissed dwarf attached to it. Molly side jogged into the nearest open door without slowing. He closed it and turned to face two gentlemen in a compromising position Molly previously hadn’t known was anatomically possible. 

“Who the Nine Hells are you?” The loud one asked. 

“…Room service.” Molly said. “Heard you needed new sheets.”

“GUARDS!” The louder one screamed. 

“And that’s my cue!” Molly barreled forward to the door on the other side of the room. _Please don’t be the closet,_ Molly prayed. 

It was not the closet, but a doorway into the other adjoining bedroom. Three children lay cross-legged on the floor. The youngest waved a small “Hi!” Molly waved back. He heard a door crashing open behind him and Felice’s muffled “Where’d he go?” 

“Shortcut out of here, friends?” The eldest pointed across to the thick oak door. “Many thinks!” Molly vaulted over the children and through the door. 

“There he is!” From the right, servants were barreling down the hallway armed with brooms and mops. “Hold!” From the left, guards were breaking into a run, reaching for their blades. So, Molly did the only sensible thing and dove through another door.

“ _Do you mind?_ We’re in the middle of a _very_ important séance!” 

Molly gagged on the copious smoke; it was like he was breathing in an ocean of ash. He stumbled around the candles and chalk, eyes watering. “I- _heagh_ \- I’m sorry. Just have to—bathroom. Need bathroom.” 

“You interrupted our family reunion with the departed for the- fine. Right over there. Now. Get. Out! ” Molly was shoved through a new door. 

Molly sucked in the fresh air. “Oh, thank the gods! I can breathe, I can…” He trailed off as he locked eyes with a room full of elderly women sewing away at a quilt. They stared at his horns and twitching tail.

“Are you all Francis’s extended family? No one could have that many grandmothers.”

One woman pointed and screamed “DEMON SPAWN!” 

Before he could point out how rude and downright racist that was, someone took a cup of water and threw its contents into his face. “Back, child of fire! The holy blood of the Dawnfather compels you!” Molly cleared his nose with a sneeze. Was the cup consecrated with their spit or something?  
As a barrage of “holy water” douses came at him, Molly fell to his hands and knees and started crawling blindly beneath the quilt. “Ladies, please! I am only looking for the cursed exit!” His horns rammed into the wooden frame of a door. He fumbled for the doorknob. “That’ll do!” Molly summersaulted into the hallway, kicking the door closed behind him. 

“Just how many cursed rooms are in this place?” Molly yelled as he sprinted into what could be the men’s washroom. A horde of feminine gasps and towels rising to cover figures confirmed that this was, in fact, not the men’s washroom. Molly saluted as he slipped through the sauna. “Hellowhoopscomingthrough!” Molly scrambled through the steam and bodies and through the other door that lead to the actual men’s washroom. They only responded with mouths mouthing a silent “What the hell?” as he flew past. Molly heard Felice’s entrance a few rooms back punctuated with a thunder of screams. 

He was in a new hallway. Empty, although the view onto the vista was breathtaking from the enormous windows. A servant stood on a ladder outside and was cleaning them with a jolly whistled tune for accompaniment. Molly brightened. An escape route! Molly ran to the window and swung it wide open. “Excuse me miss, but I was wondering if I could borrow—!”

He had opened the window the ladder had been braced against. Molly and the servant both look at one another in horror as the ladder began to lean away from the house in slow motion. The servant did not start screaming until the ladder had passed the apex of its height. Her scream was punctuated by the _sploosh_ of her entry into the estate’s pool. 

Mollymauk delicately closed the window, cleared his throat, and strutted away. 

Three turns down the maze of hallways, and Molly found him himself back in the Red Room. Finally! Some familiarity in this labyrinth! He took a moment to catch his breath before continuing across the blood red rug. 

Molly glanced down at his ornate coat. Perhaps he could use this for camouflage in here if Felice found him. 

The door swung open. “You little dog!” An infuriated Felice sprinted into the room with a rapier raised. Molly yelped and grabbed a nearby vase holding red celosias. He brought it up just in time to intercept the hilt of Felice’s sword. The ceramic shattered, leaving just the flower stalks in Molly’s hand. Felice gasped as the soil soiled the scarlet rug. 

Molly stared at the plant plumage in his hand, and then sheepishly tried to hide it behind his back while he bowed, “Well, uh, thank you so much for your hospitality.” He started to inch towards the door. “But, it appears that we, um, we must take our leave. Oh darn. Was really looking forward to that dinner.”

Felice readied their rapier. “You will pay for that!” 

“Oh look at the time! Got to go!” Molly chucked the celosias and made for the door. 

Felice grabbed Molly’s coat. Molly’s body instinctually went limp for a heartbeat, which allowed him to slip out of his large sleeves like a lavender butterfly bursting from a red cocoon. Felice stumbled to a brief halt, cursed, and chucked the coat to the side before giving chase once more. 

They reached the top of the entry halls stairs. Bo stood at the foot of the stairs, admiring one of the scantily clad elven statues lining the entrance hall. He turned to see a disrobed purple tiefling running from an enraged Felice wiping a rapier about like a lion tamer’s whip. “M-Molly?” Bo said, briefly forgetting Molly’s alias.  


Felice snarled. “Molly, eh? That’s your real name? I knew it! I knew you people were full of sh— hey!” 

Molly leapt down the steps, but his foot missed the last one and he slipped, hurtling into the display with the emerald heirloom bowl. Yelping, Molly managed to snatch it out of the air before it shattered. 

“No!” Felice gasped.

Molly looked at the bowl in his hands, and then back at Felice, and then back at the bowl in his hands. Felice was frozen in mid step, his eyes locked on the bowl. The clamor of Felice’s guards grew louder at the top of the stairs. 

Molly held up the bowl. “You want it?” Felice flinched back. Molly juggled it a bit. “Eh? Eh? Catch!” Molly tossed the bowl straight up into the air and ran. 

There was no bowl shattering crash. Molly looked over his shoulder as he leapt down the stairs to the entrance. The guards swarmed the top of the staircase. Arching over their heads, tossed from one failed catch to the next, was the bowl. It was the juggling act of a lifetime. Gustav would have been proud. 

Mollymauk bolted past Bo through the door. “Molly!?”.

“It’s bad! We’re running!” Molly yelled. “Ready those horses. We need to go!” Molly dove through the carriage window. “Let’s go!” He yelled at Orna. Orna was already ahead of him. 

“YAH!” She yelled, snapping the reins. “YAH! YAH!” 

The horses didn’t move. Molly leaned out. He watched as the gray horse went for another snack of grass. The horse stared back at him with contempt. 

“What in the bleedin’ Hell, Orna?”

“They aren’t moving!” Orna said. She snapped the reins. “C’mon fellas! YAH!” 

The horses turned their heads slowly to her, blinked slowly, and then went back to grazing. 

Bo reached the carriage at a fully sprint. Felice, having escaped the bowl party, was back to pursuing them, picking up speed down the stairs. “Did you just try to leave without me?” 

“Horses made sure we didn’t.” Molly kicked open the other carriage door. “Shall we run?” 

Bo followed yelling, “ _You were going to leave without me? GUYS!_ ” 

The quartet sprinted from the estate, Molly in the lead and Felice hot on his heels. 

“Fuck you, Molly!” screamed Felice.

“Fuck me indeed!” Molly cackled back. To Orna and Bo, he said, “I will catch up with you in a second.” 

Molly spun back around and ran to Felice despite the protests of his companions. Felice stopped in their tracks and reached for their rapier, but Molly wrapped his arms around their shoulders. “Thank you for the best day of my life!” He said. Molly gave them a little peck on the lips and then ran after his friends again.

Felice did not pursue. They panted in place. Their guard caught up to and asked for their instructions. “Call off pursuit,” Felice said, finally letting out a chuckle. The chuckle grew and grew until Felice was shaking from laughter. “Let them go. We don’t have time for failed scammers.” As they started towards the estate once more, Felice glanced over his shoulders. “Thanks for the fun,” they laughed. “Strut tall, you glorious bastard.” 

“Mollymauk!” Orna scolded as he caught up with them once more. 

“What?” Molly laughed, passing between the two of them. “I wasn’t lying!” As they rounded a corner, he finally asked: “Did I pass?” 

Orna and Bo spoke over one another,

“Hell no.” 

“I think so!”

Molly cackled and punched the air with both fists. This was one hell of a way to live, running full speed ahead and never looking back. “By the way, Orna. I loved that big coat. You think you can make me another one?”


End file.
